In Memoriam
by TheGreatSporkWielder
Summary: For the fifth time in two weeks, Darcy sits stiffly in Pemberley Digital's main conference room at the head of the long table in the chair that had once belonged to his father, and he still feels as though it's wrong for him to be sitting here. A Lizzie Bennet Diaries Fic.


For the fifth time in two weeks, Darcy sits stiffly in Pemberley Digital's main conference room at the head of the long table in the chair that had once belonged to his father, and he still feels as though it's wrong for him to be sitting here. He belongs in the chair about five seats to the right, and he idly wonders what Clemson and Miller would think if he were to stand up and change seats right now.

"It would, of course, be completely appropriate to erect some sort of memorial to your parents," says Clemson, as he wipes the lenses of his glasses on a handkerchief.

"Of course," Darcy echoes hollowly, tracing the polished cherry tabletop with one finger. A memorial? He has barely been able to acknowledge the need for such a thing. What would even be appropriate? His parents had such diverse interests, nothing that came to mind seemed to fully encompass all his parents had done for Pemberley Digital.

"Perhaps a fountain, to match the one in honor of your grandfather?" suggests Miller.

Darcy hesitates, darting an unsure glance up at the two attorneys. "I'd prefer to think it over," he finally declares. "My parents were integral to the continued success of Pemberley Digital and they deserve something that...encapsulates the contributions they made."

"Of course," says Clemson sympathetically. "You take as long as you need. Talk it over with your sister."

Darcy isn't sure how well that conversation would go. Gigi is nearly inconsolable, and although there are moments when Darcy wishes he could, like his sister, curl up under a pile of blankets and cry his heart out, he also knows he has to be strong for Gigi; and so in the weeks since his parents' untimely deaths, Darcy has focused on the execution of his parents' estates and acclimating to his new position as CEO of the family company, and has brutally shoved the grief that sometimes threatens to overwhelm him to the back of his mind to be dealt with at a more opportune moment, when he isn't needed elsewhere.

He makes a mental note to contact Harvard about finishing his degree by correspondence, or perhaps postponing it until things have settled down here in San Francisco.

Little had he known that this Christmas break would be so tragically different from previous years'. With his eyes still glued to the shiny surface of the table, he swallows past the sudden lump in his throat as he remembers the last conversation he'd had with his mother only three weeks ago.

_"Are you coming home for Christmas, William?" she'd asked."We haven't seen you since the summer."_

_"I was considering going to St. Thomas with Bing and his family," he'd replied, and he'd almost retracted the words when he heard his mother give a disappointed sigh._

_"Alright," she'd conceded. "But make sure you call on Christmas morning or Gigi will be so disappointed."_

_"I will," he'd promised, and hung up._

He hadn't had the opportunity to make good on that promise, as he'd been abruptly awoken in the early hours of Christmas morning by the strident ringing of his telephone, only to be informed that, at the ripe old age of twenty, he'd inherited both a company and a guardianship.

The next few hours had been a bit of a blur as he'd rather untidily packed his things and headed for the airport, asking the concierge to give his excuses to the Lees for his hasty departure. He'd spend the entire flight home torn between wanting the plane to move faster so he could be with Gigi that much sooner or wanting it to crawl so he didn't have to face the irrefutable proof that his parents were gone. The moment he'd stepped inside the house, Gigi had thrown herself at him and sobbed into his neck; he'd dropped his bags and, not caring about how jet-lagged he was or how undignified he looked, wrapped his arms around her and sank to the hardwood floor, pulling her into his lap and burying his face in his sister's dark curls.

He is pulled back to the present day by Miller's voice saying, "-a tragedy for us all. Once again, we offer you and your sister our deepest condolences." Darcy looks up to see the two men rising to their feet; apparently today's meeting is now over.

"Yes," he stammers, standing as well and reaching out to shake their proffered hands. "Thank you."

"You think about that memorial and let us know, alright?" says Clemson.

Darcy nods, his mind already whirring. His mother had loved art, so perhaps purchasing a piece in her honor for the foyer? Or perhaps constructing a gallery? His father had greatly enjoyed the performing arts, so a small performance area wouldn't be amiss. There was plenty of room on Pemberley Digital's campus for something like that. Perhaps both? It needed to be something that his parents would be proud of; something that showed how much he, and Pemberley Digital, honored and appreciated all they had done for the company. Something that would be a testament to their legacy.

In such cases as these, he thinks, it would be better to do too much than too little.


End file.
